


spontaneous dick fumblings

by 2x2verse (agent_florida)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Foursome, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Moresomes, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2457728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/2x2verse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just what it says on the box.</p><p>2x2 compliant, not necessarily 2x2 canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	spontaneous dick fumblings

You have six-foot-four of gangly troll spread out under you like a feast and you’re about to devour him for all he’s worth when the door to your dorm room bangs open. Too late to tell Dave to stay out, apparently, because he saunters in, casual as you please, and only stops to facepalm once he drops his messenger bag. “Jesus H, Egbert, do you mind?”

“I did have a sock on the--” you point out petulantly, even as Sollux decides that now is the perfect time to stick his tongue in your ear. “Door-oh. Oh shit, Sol, stop it, it tickles!” It doesn’t tickle. He knows that. What a brat.

Dave is the model of unplussed. “Why is it always here,” he deadpans. “Why do you never do this in Abraxas Hall.”

“Because KK would have an aneurysm if he walked in on this,” Sollux points out, and with good reason. Sudden change in blood pressure, rush to his bulge, would probably result in him passing out. Poor thing. The troll’s tongue moves from your earlobe down the pulse in your throat, traces across your adam’s apple, and your breath hitches. He can feel it.

So, uh. Apparently this is going to be a thing that’s happening. Just. Casually making out with Sollux in front of your roommate. That’s cool. Not like Dave hasn’t been a party to worse. Just… not in person, necessarily. Sollux pulls your face back down to his, forces you to focus, and smears his mouth against yours. Slow, deliberate. Electric, even, as his fingers run through your hair, clawtips barely teasing your scalp. The cotton of his shirt is soft under your palms, even softer against the backs of your hands as you get your fingers under his clothes to the hollow of his stomach.

“Fuck,” whispers the only mouth in this room that’s not otherwise occupied, and you smile.

Sollux draws his knees up, bony thighs framing the space between your ribs and your hips, and teases the arches of his feet against the backs of your knees. In retaliation, you push his shirt up further. “Take it off?” you ask him. You’d do it yourself, but you’re not practiced enough at it yet, and you don’t want to ruin any more of his tee-shirts that you can’t easily replace.

“In front of DV?” he purrs. The waggling thing his eyebrows are doing is probably illegal in several European nations.

You scrape your nails gently along one of his vestigial legs, that heavy, dark keratin ridge under the curve of whatever he calls his ribs. “His eyes are red,” you whisper into his ear, then run your tongue along the point of it.

That purr turns into an outright buzz. Sollux yanks his hands out of your hair—it’s irrevocably mussed now, no saving it, it’s going to look sex-tousled for the rest of the day now and for a good reason—and immediately starts wrestling with his clothes. That weird little fetish of his pays off sometimes. Once Sollux bares his chest to you, you immediately lick a broad, wet swath up his breastbone, tongue slipping across either side of the convex jut of it.

Sollux flings his shirt away. “Sweet, free duds,” Dave comments, and you can hear the little sideways smile blooming on his face. “The hell is Twitch?”

“Does it matter?” you ask him right back, just before Sollux grabs your jaw and forces you back up to kiss him again. He can’t decide whether he wants hard, frantic pecks or a long taste of the inside of your mouth, and it ends with his tongue tracing the split of your lips and outlining your teeth and why is it so hot that it feels like he’s trying to memorize your gumline?

You encourage his tongue to curl around yours, open your mouth to him and slide your lips against his just so, and he takes in a breath like he could insufflate you into his atmosphere aspirators. His hips tilt up and collide sharply with yours and would you look at that. You chuckle against his mouth and he strokes your tongue with his, a pretty effective way of shutting you up if you do say so yourself. To reassure him that you weren’t laughing _at him_ , you roll your hips down against his. Yes, you’re telling him. Very yes.

The mattress dips to one side and you nearly lose your balance before a hand smooths down your side. Dave, trying to climb on and roughhouse. You’re about to tell him to fuck off, thanks, but then his cold, slim fingers sneak under your shirt to creep up your back, and a delightful shiver runs down your spine. Yeah, sure. He can join the party if he wants to. It’s kind of crowded on this twin XL, but that’s kinda the way you like it. “Okay?” he asks you, just to make sure.

“Yeah,” and you’re surprised at how shaky your own voice is. Maybe because this has only happened to you in your wildest dreams, actual three-way makeouts, and you’re not quite sure how this is supposed to work but it’s _really hot_ regardless. Dave pushes your shirt off and Sollux pulls it off from over your head—since when is Dave half-naked too?—and your glasses spill somewhere. “Be careful with those!” you blurt out, but you don’t hear them fall on the floor.

Instead, they float next to you for a second, buoyed by a red-and-blue force field that kept them from cracking on the linoleum. “Gotcha,” Sollux whispers.

“Showoff,” Dave grumbles good-naturedly. “Egbert, I’m putting you under arrest, these back muscles are criminal and you shouldn’t be allowed to deploy them in public. Seriously, I wish you were a research cadaver so I could just play with them.”

“Not sexy, just disgusting,” you remind him in a long-suffering tone, rolling your eyes. One of these days he’ll get it through his thick skull that other people don’t think his dead-shit fascination is all that fascinating.

“It’s not _fair_ ,” he says instead, and sinks his teeth into your lower back, the left side of your sacrospinalis.

You jerk and howl—just surprised, not seriously hurt—and it rubs your crotch against Sollux’s again, even as the troll gets his tongue to your throat again. Dave sucks a mark into your dark skin and you let out a shuddering, hesitant breath. Things you never thought would feel this amazing, number one thousand twenty-two.

Sollux gladly humps against you as you move against him. “JB,” he breathes out, “that’s, wow, do that again.”

Yeah. You can do that. You prop yourself up over him with your arms and start your hips in a slow, deliberate roll—but Dave interrupts again, biting you a little further up on the other side of your spine, and your hips snap reflexively. Sollux whines, moving against you, and loops his arms loosely around your shoulders.

The troll’s mouth presses against yours, open and wet and honest, and you can’t stop kissing him. Dave, meanwhile, is leaving a trail of bruises along your back, aggravating the ones he’s left with the pad of his thumb even as he gives you more. You never realized how much you used each thread of muscle on your back until they ached so sweetly like this. When you move your hand up to card through Sollux’s hair and find a set of horns, it pulls against the memories of Dave’s mouth. You’ll feel him for _days_ , with what he’s doing to you.

You stroke Sollux’s tongue with your own, nudge the bulge in his pants with the one in your own, and muffle your needy noises in the troll’s mouth. Dave drapes himself over your back and hi hello there’s a third pants party nestled nicely right between your glutes even as Dave’s still chewing on the slope of your trapezius. This might be your favorite place in the entire world.

And then there’s a knock at the door. “Dave!” comes a familiar, scratchy half-yell.

“It’s open,” your roommate calls back, and you’d punch him in the face for that comment if you weren’t so emotionally invested in what his mouth is doing to you.

“Do you still have my—“ The sentence starts, and then abruptly dies, as Karkat opens the door. For the space of a few hammered heartbeats, you don’t hear a thing from him. Then, audible to everyone, he sucks a breath in through his teeth while his throat makes a strange reverse-moan that chitters through him. “Nu ti dajosh [Russian: Some serious courage], fangzong fengkuang de jie [Mandarin: knot of self-indulgent lunacy], I fucking—holy bug-winged flap-fondling—“ Eventually his speech degrades into nothing more than vague bug noises and a noise that sits tight in his chest. You don’t need to know any foreign languages to get the jist: _I am going to die happy_ , simultaneous with _my pants are suddenly too tight_.

The next thing you hear is a whump. When you look over, Karkat’s sitting on Dave’s bed, looking at the tangle of the three of you with impossibly wide eyes. His mouth is hanging half-open, tongue just barely wetting his lips, and his hand is clutched hard over his crotch. What’s under there is writhing. With your gaze still pinning him down, he undoes the button and zip of his jeans. His bulge comes easily to hand, and he lets it twine around his fingers. “Fuck,” he whimpers reverently.

So apparently it’s not just three-way sloppy makeouts that are going to be a thing, but Karkat watching and getting his rocks off. Yeah. Okay. The physical logistics of four people on a twin-sized bed were making your head hurt anyway. He’d be welcome to join the three of you, but you have no idea where he’d _go_.

Meanwhile, this new addition has your dick extremely interested. Dave lays a hand on your hip, slipping it around and in front and framing your trail with his palm before he follows it down and in and hey there’s your best friend’s hand in your pants hello. Sollux helps him out by working on your belt, your fly, and your shorts end up shucked down to your knees. Not just three-way sloppy makeouts, but three-way spontaneous dick fumblings. Huh. That’s.

Dave and Sollux don’t give you time to ruminate on it; Dave grinds against your ass and Sollux starts undoing his own pants so his bulge can come out to play. There’s a lot of the three of you wrestling around—why does everyone you know insist on wearing skinny jeans?—and then it’s an underwear party on your bed and you were definitely invited.

There’s still somebody that hasn’t quite RSVP’d, though. “The hell are you doing?” Dave asks Karkat.

“I—I just—“ he starts stuttering. “I walked in and—the three of you—“ muttering too fast for you to catch most of it and choking his bulge down in a death grip, “but you didn’t tell—if you wanted me here I’d be here and I don’t want to interrupt—“

“You fucking idiot,” Dave tells him fondly, interrupting the word spillage. “Did we tell you to leave?”

“No, but—“

“Then stop with the clumsy auto-erotic bulge-wrangling and _get over here_ ,” Dave says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But,” Karkat says weakly. “why would you want, I won’t even _fit_ —“

“Drag the sleep slat over so we can make a proper pile,” Sollux suggests, then gets right back to kissing you.

You’re so happy to know an engineer who can actually solve structural problems like this. Karkat bites his lip to keep down an almost-pained sound as he stands, then awkwardly stuffs his bulge back into his jeans as well as he can to pull Dave’s bed to yours. And just like that, there’s a full bed, two, twice the mattress, and Sollux lets out a happy sigh when Karkat climbs back on. Two beds. Four people, two by two, two humans and two trolls. A beautiful sort of symmetry.

Dave reaches for Karkat’s bulge and Karkat recoils like he’s just been burned, hissing hard. “Hurts,” he grits out.

“Just fucking—relax, would you,” Dave tells him, trying to be encouraging. When he actually starts stroking Karkat’s bulge, the beds start shaking so hard you can feel it.

Karkat reaches out to brace himself and ends up grappling for your arm. The longer Dave works on him, the weaker his grip gets, until he’s just petting along your skin. Dave’s hips are still vaguely nestled against yours. Under you, Sollux twists so he can reach for Karkat’s shirt—time to play catch-up. It leaves the column of Sollux’s neck perfectly exposed to your tongue and lips and teeth, and his skin tastes so good now that he’s getting so worked up.

Then Karkat’s hand slips. Off your arm, to find your side and trace out muscle groups with his fingertips. Further down, following the same trail Dave already blazed, straight down and closing his hand around you and stroking all the way off with his lower lip between his teeth. It’s hard not to shiver when he does that, pulling at your fresh bruises all over again. “I,” Karkat says, then feels you out again. “How?” he asks after a second stroke.

“Freakishly good genes.” You can feel Dave shrug when his shoulder jostles into your back. ‘Freakish’ is right, but you don’t want to freak Karkat out by belaboring the point. This is probably only the second time he’s gotten into a human dude’s pants—no need to scare him off.

Meanwhile, Sollux’s bulge seems to be feeling greedy, interrupting this half-hearted handjob to try and wrap around your shaft. For all you love playing with it as it twines between your fingers, having it slick around your cock is incredible—dripping wet, delicate texture of silk-strings cut through with keratin ridges every inch or so for protection when he’s soft, and remarkably flexible and strong.

You run a fingertip between two of those ridges and Sollux jolts under you like you just sent a current of electricity through him. Might be literal—Karkat cries out like he’s just been shocked. Get this boy a breaker switch, christ. As good as this is, though, you want something else from him. Something more. Your mouth is watering and your fingers itch for more. When your hand creeps between his legs, you find him already honey-slicked. “Can I?” you ask him quietly.

He doesn’t answer you. Not directly, at least. Instead, he wraps long, hot fingers around your wrist and keeps your hand right where it is. A good sign. You kiss down his throat, then shuffle down so you can mouth your way down his chest next.

Next to you, Karkat makes a sound like an exclamation point in one-point font as his hand slips away from you. Okay, yeah, you’re missing that now, but this. This is important. Your mouth slips on the pronounced jut of Sollux’s hipbones and he arcs under you, liquid gold. “Pleathe, oh god,” he lisps out, hands scrabbling at your shoulders.

You don’t give him time to catch his breath. Instead, you dive straight for the prize and bury your face between his legs, licking a slow, deliberate stripe from nadir to apex of his seedflaps. Sollux starts buzzing violently, like his body is dissolving into an angry swarm of bees. You’re honestly surprised that his bulge isn’t trying to style your hair right now—until you reach up to touch it and find someone else’s hand already there. Sollux, you think at first, but too cold and blunt nails—Dave.

Karkat lets out a cascade of chitters as you keep parting the soft folds of Sollux’s seedflaps with your tongue, tracing every square inch of him as best you can. His hand must be the one that settles next to you on Sollux’s thigh, holding him open for you—or. Or maybe. Maybe so he can watch. Oh, holy fuck. You moan straight into Sollux’s slit and now it’s Sollux chirping for you.

Dave lets go of Sollux’s bulge and it whips straight into your curls. Welp, you’re certainly going to look fucked now. The only good thing is that the prehensile tip of it can’t reach for the bridge of your glasses right now. While you keep slurping at Sollux, you can hear him talking to Karkat. “C’mon, young blood,” he cajoles him, “whaddaya want here?”

Karkat makes a noise like he’s just been stepped on. When you catch a glance, you can see his bulge tying itself into a neat little knot, trying to get sensation. “I don’t know,” he whines helplessly, “I interrupted, I’m about as useful as the Mother Grub’s vestigial sphincters, I shouldn’t even be h—“

“Stop. No, _stop_ ,” Dave repeats himself, bodily clapping his hand over Karkat’s mouth to make him shut up. “What. Do. You. Want.” Jesus, the way he says that makes even _you_ shiver.

“I,” Karkat says articulately. His hand moves from Sollux’s thigh to the shell of your ear. Traces it, then cards through your hair—pulling away honey-sticky and taking your head with him. “Wait,” he tells you, and lunges forward.

His mouth catches yours in an apocalyptic slip of teeth and tongues. He doesn’t even care that your chin is covered in Sollux’s juice, just dives in there and kisses you like he means it. Slow and deliberate. You’d call it delicate, except it’s not because he thinks you’ll break. More like he seems reticent. Almost afraid of the way you loom over him. You reassure him with the slow slide of your tongue against his, and he pushes into your mouth immediately once you give him permission.

He only stops once he forces himself to break away, pulling your hair to pull your face away from his. He’s already breathing hard, pupils blown under hooded lids. “I want,” but instead of finishing the sentence he plants his hand on your chest and pushes you. Actually shoves you away from between Sollux’s legs, rolls you over so you’re smushed up against the wall, and takes your place as soon as everyone’s limbs get sorted out. The cold of the concrete blocks feels good against the bruises on your back.

Karkat grunts and Sollux shrieks and a shower of sparks runs along your bedsheets and Dave whispers “holy shit” and just like that, these two idiot moron trolls that you’re desperately in yes with are having sex right next to you.

Sollux’s mouth falls open, slack wet O, and when he looks like that how could you _not_ kiss him? Dave has the same idea, which means the two of you are playfully fighting over which corner of his mouth you want, darting your tongues in like one of you can _win_ this absolutely absurd game. Sollux makes a noise like a choke at how good it is; your breath reaches out instinctively for him to show him how to breathe.

Meanwhile, Dave’s forgotten about the troll and has latched himself square on your face instead. Kissing Dave is… it’s… it just _is_ , there’s no way you can put into words how _right_ it feels. He’s your best friend and your right side and the world can peel away everyone else from you but you know for a fact that you can’t _live_ without him. Nothing feels right when he isn’t here. And now things aren’t just _right_ , they’re _perfect_ , his body half-falling over Karkat’s just so he can reach you, curling his fingers around the back of your neck to keep you from even contemplating moving away.

Sollux reaches out for you to hold on, hand slipping on your shoulder—you give him one of your hands and he zips his fingers through yours, clenching on so hard his claws are nearly puncturing holes in your skin and the bones in your knuckles are grinding together. It’s _adorable_ how overwhelmed he is by sensation right now, and you caress the back of his hand with your thumb. Karkat’s eyes are bright under his drawn brows; he’s gathered himself like a storm cloud, the growl in his chest the thunder, as Sollux’s lightning crackles around him. The two of them move together like rain against rivers. Someday you’ll learn how to move with them like that—it doesn’t come overnight. It’s something you’re emotionally invested in practicing.

Dave flicks his tongue in your mouth and your throat closes around a high moan (not a _squeak_ , dear god, how undignified do you even want to _be_ ). His palm settles heavy over your chest, sapping the heat under your skin. By the time it hits the end of your breastbone, it’s pleasantly warm; tracing over your trail and it’s searing. He wraps dexterous fingers around your cock, pulls like he’s always known what to do with it, and your hips follow his movement. “This,” he announces with a wry smile you can practically _taste_ , “is going straight in my mouth.”

“Um,” you say, because you don’t want to say no but how can you say yes? Or is it the other way around? You’re afraid he’s going to hurt himself. Or that you’re going to hurt him. And you couldn’t live with yourself if that happened. “The whole thing?”

“Straight in my mouth,” he repeats.

It doesn’t sound like you’re about to persuade him otherwise. Of course, him getting it in his mouth involves him shoving past Sollux and Karkat to get to you. He paws his way around them and the two of them end up rolling onto the bed shoved up against yours, little alarmed noises at the shift in gravity but their hips never moving apart, Karkat still firmly pinning Sollux down as he screws into him with his bulge—holy crap you can actually see it writhing between his legs. You might actually come the second Dave starts trying to do whatever his plan is here and you’re not entirely sure that’s such a bad thing.

Dave settles on his side, head-to-head with… well. He’s eyeing it like a challenge, his glance clearly communicating _first of all how dare you_. His tongue comes out and you close your eyes, anticipating—but you hear him licking his lips instead. The first touch of his mouth against you is a sucking kiss right at the sensitive part just under the head holy mother of god does that feel amazing.

“Oh, god, oh, fuck, _Dave_ ,” Karkat blathers out, and shoves himself into Sollux so hard it jostles through the shitty dorm room bedframes.

Tip of tongue tracing your foreskin, delicately nudging it down. Cupping around the head, gently closing wet lips tight around. Deliberate, soft, sloppy suck, and Dave looks up at you, eyes unguarded, searching your face for approval. Your shaking hand pets at his hair and he closes his eyes in devotion. You can see his eyelashes fluttering.

It’s nowhere near close to the whole thing. It doesn’t even matter. His tongue right up against the most sensitive part—texture of the roof of his mouth, hard then soft palate—slick of the insides of his cheeks—pressure like he’s trying to wring something out of you—his hair slips between your fingers and the muscles in your back tighten, rung by rung, pulling at the bite marks he left—he bobs, swirl and press of his tongue under the rim of the head—

Sollux’s hand clenches in yours, blue currents traveling up your arms, and you’re gone. Everything pulls apart, white against the cracks in your perception. Tighten, instinct, pulse, heartbeat thick in your tongue.

Dave pulls back. A smear of your cum is trailed up the side of his cheek. He wipes at it with the back of his hand and blearily says around a mouthful “you inconsiderate piece of shit” with a triumphant smirk.

“I’m sorry—“ you start to say, but then he swallows and actually—wow. Chuckles. Laughs, even. Genuinely happy. He punches you in the shoulder and you shove him right back.

Karkat yowls. At first you think it’s because Dave just hit the both of them in the sides, but then he grits out “fuck, I can smell your _pheromones_ , Dave, I,” and reaches out blindly for the region of Dave’s hips. Somehow the two of them have learned how to coordinate their strange little martial-sexual dances around each other, because even with that incoherent of a cue Dave still seems to know what to do. Karkat pummels into Sollux, Dave twists and Karkat leans down to take him in his mouth, and it takes you a minute to realize that the person who sounds like they’re getting strangled is _you_ at the sight of this.

Ten more seconds, maybe (Dave would be able to say more precisely) and a deep rumble starts out from deep in Karkat, so forceful it makes the keratin ridges on his sides shake with it. Sollux fizzles right alongside him, a thin reedy noise stuck just behind his tongue. Dave makes as if to pull away, but Karkat follows him, right up to the head of the bed, reluctant to give up his dick pacifier. Sollux is still trembling, twisting in on himself. “JB,” he calls out for you, “fuck, need, I—“

Because it’ll ache if he doesn’t get a second soon. You pull him closer to you, all shaking long limbs and oversensitive nerves, and he croons when you wrap your hand around his bulge. Roll your wrist, let it slither where it likes, swirl it around your hand, twine it between your fingers, and he spills like this, messy and suddenly slack, nothing holding his bones together. You gather him close so he can remember the bounds of his own body again, and he curls gratefully into you.

“Karkat, ‘m gonna,” you can vaguely hear Dave trying to get out a warning, but when you tilt your head to look, Karkat just works harder, cheeks hollowing as he sinks down. All the fucking way down, standing out in his throat as he takes it, and it’s all Dave can do to scrabble for his horns and grip like he wants to pull them off. Karkat swallows through it, eyes sliding closed and face set like he’s praying, as he takes what Dave offers him. God, if you could only see him so blissed all the time.

It ends with a lot of harsh breathing, sweaty limbs, and weird fluids all over your bed. Dave collapses on top of you; you let out an ‘oof’ but you’re too relaxed to move. Karkat crawls closer to Sollux so he can pepper little kisses across the arch of his cheekbones. “I want pancakes,” Dave grumbles.

“What?” you ask, because that’s a non-sequitur if you ever heard one.

“Where’s the nearest Denny’s?” Dave asks instead.

“Excuse you,” and you elbow him in the ribs, “if we’re going anywhere for breakfast we’re going to IHOP.”

Karkat’s voice is scratchy but soft when he speaks up. “Imperial Highness’s Operative Prelates?”

“International House of Pancakes,” Dave explains, “otherwise known as Egbert is a heathen and we shun the non-believer.”

“Why are we talking about morning meal food,” Sollux mumbles. He sounds like he’s about to fall asleep.

Dave snorts. “Fucking excuse me if I want to celebrate my first moresome with a Grand Slam.”

“I’m not driving,” you blurt out before he can wrangle you into his stupid idea. “I’m not even moving. I’m staying right the hell here. See, I’m stuck,” and you try to wriggle out from under everyone but your extremities are stuck under some really stupid boys.

“Make me french toast later,” Dave offers as a compromise, but he settles down and joins the puppy pile.

Karkat yawns. “What’s french toast?”

“I’ll show you later.” You’re surprised he didn’t know yet—he’s obsessed with Earth cuisines. Later can wait, though. In the meantime, you’re naked, covered only by other bodies draped over you, and the four of you are loose-limbed and lazy and well-fucked. Yes. This. Spontaneous and messy and uncoordinated, but it couldn’t have been more perfect if you’d planned it to the most meticulous detail.


End file.
